eBay listing: Fuchsia velvet Marc by Marc Jacobs heels with metallic trim and bow in front. Size 7 1/2.
Seeing these shoes shouldn't make me sad because I already bought the same style in a size that doesn't cut off the circulation in my toes. But the new shoes don't have as special as a story.
Ten years ago (YIKES! that long ago?!) Mommy showed me these shoes on the Saks website. They cost over $300. Clearly, I could not afford them. In fell so deeply in love that I printed out a picture and hung it in a frame on my dorm room wall. I wanted- no needed- these shoes. We were sole-mates, pardon the cheesy pun. Mommy bought herself a pair, and I was insanely jealous, especially since she never wore her fabulous shoes out. My foot was too big to even try squeezing into them.
Christmas 2003 came and Mommy somehow knew about a sale at Saks the day after Christmas (back then things went on sale <ins>AFTER</ins> the holidays). At 7am, the day after Christmas, the two of us stood outside Saks amongst a small crowd of equally crazy, thrifty shoe addicts waiting to be let in.
The doors opened, and as if I was on a game show contestant I ran to the shelf to find my coveted pink heels in a size 7 1/2. Mommy flagged a salesperson she was friendly with. I purchased the shoes at a price over $100, but no more than $120. I don't remember what the two of us did with the rest of our day. Knowing us we shopped some more.
My best outfit with the shoes was Nanny's birthday party. Mommy styled me to perfection. I wore an adorable pink and orange brocade Nicole Miller party dress with a little off white cardigan. Mommy layered different pearl necklaces on me. I looked "very Chanel". I was sad she didn't join me at the party, but I took along the best part of her- her flawless style.
Once I sell, giveaway, whatever the shoes, that is one less item she helped me add to my wardrobe. Yes, I have their <ins>exact</ins> replicas, but they are impostors. She didn't help me pick those out. She didn't put together fun outfits to match them. If I tell myself they are the same it is all just a lie.
As I replace my teenage/college clothes with newer items I have less and less with their own special stories. When all the stories are over what will be left?